


Sundaes  and Sparring

by SereneCalamity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Missions, Sparring, Sundaes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneCalamity/pseuds/SereneCalamity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between the sundaes and the sparring, Clint had fallen for Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundaes  and Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> This couple is so bloody hot together. God, and Jeremy Renner is such a babe. Plus, I had to include Pietro, because Aaron is super gorgeous as well. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything...So depressing.

"You're getting slow in your old age," Natasha Romanov commented with a smirk as she landed a solid hit across Clinton Barton's neck and he winced away from her. He bounced on the balls of his feet, dodging the next punch that she aimed at his shoulder and waved a finger teasingly in front of her face.

"Only ten months older than you, Nat," he teased as he faked a lunge to the left and then grabbed her from the right, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing them both backwards into the blue training mats. Natasha kicked out with her legs and pummeled his back with her fists, but she was laughing as they both fell down, Natasha trapped under his muscular body. Clint pulled back, his hands on either side of her face, taking in the sweaty and flushed face that still managed to look better than any other girl. She noticed his hesitation as his eyes dipped down a little further from her face and suddenly she was throwing all of her weight forward and they were flipped over, this time; Clint on his back.

"You know I'm not just gonna let you win that easy, old man," she smirked down at him, her perfect red lips curving upward in a smile. Clint raised his eyebrows. a smirk of his own on his face as he tapped her twice on the hip.

"Okay. Time out," he conceeded. Natasha stayed where she was for a moment longer, her toned, muscular thighs clenched around his hips, and Clint had to swallow hard to stop his body from reacting to his best friend. She finally moved, her red head falling in front of her face as she stretched. Clint got up and shook out his arms, rolling his neck, before walking over to where his bottle of water was on a table to the side of the room. He took a long drink and splashed some of the water on his face, rubbing his hand over his forehead before looking over at Natasha. She was laying on her stomach on the ground, doing some weird stretch with her arms and legs and he snorted. "What's that called? The Dirty Pretzel?"

"You're not even funny, Clint," Natasha replied calmly, her voice slightly muffled from where it was tucked under one arm. He was still grinning at his joke as the Maximoff siblings came into the room, both dressed in work out gear.

"Are you guys still working out?" Wanda Maximoff asked, looking between the two. "We can come back."

"Nah, I'm done for the day," Clint replied.

"Oh yeah?" A smirk twisted Pietro Maximoff's handsome face as he glanced over to where Natasha was now back on her feet, but bent over double to wrap her arms around her calves, her delicious ass on full display. "You sure if was sparring that you guys were doing in here...Or was it something even more fun?" Clint rolled his eyes and didn't even both to answer the younger man, but suddenly Natasha was at the blonde's man's side, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"He would be a lot more sweaty if we were doing some more...Extra-curicular activites," she told him softly, teasingly. Clint saw the speedster's pupils dilate, his body visibly tighten. and he grinned and shook his head, looking down at the bottle of water in his hands. "What about you, huh, Pietro?" Natasha was continuing with her uncomfortable assault, touching his elbow lightly and gave her the smile that Clint knew all too well. It was the smile that lit up her face and her eyes and it would translate through to anyone that she was giving it to, and usually it was when she was on a mission and charming someone.

Or just wanted to make a poor kid uncomfortable.

"Let's go, Nat," Clint said, grabbing her jacket alongside his and tossing it to her, forcing her to break her spell over Pietro so that she didn't get hit in the face by her clothing. She rolled her eyes at him, but left Pietro alone, heading for the door with a smirk over her shoulder and a slight exaggerated sashay of her hips. Clint sent Pietro and Wanda a parting smile before heading after her, firmly closing the door shut behind them. "You're a horrible human being," he stated as he caught up to her.

"Aw, you're only just figuring that out?" She mocked him lightly with a playful smile as she tugged on her jacket. She was practically vibrating with energy as she walked next to him, the complete opposite of the over-controlled and ever concentrating Black Widow that everyone knew.

He felt sorry for them all, really, because they were missing out on a lot.

"We should go out!" Natasha announced and Clint huffed under his breath.

"I hate going out," he muttered.

"You're so boring," she complained, but she said it affectionately, and bumped his arm with hers. "Well, then, we should go make sundaes."

"That would completely undo the work done from our workout," Clint contradicted.

" _And_?" Natasha sung out.

"You act like a three year old," Clint stopped as he reached his door and Natasha grudgingly stopped beside him. "I'm going to bed."

"It's only ten!"

"I'm tired," he told her and she made a face. "And besides, with the amount of sugar that you put into those sundaes, we would be up for hours."

"That's the point!"

"I'm tired," he repeated.

"You _are_ getting old," she grumbled and Clint forced himself to give her a smile. "Fine. But you better take me out dancing before we head off to Spain on Thursday. I need some fun before our next mission." Clint swiped his key card against the lock of his door and it popped open.

"I thought that the Black Widow didn't have fun," he joked as he pushed his door wide open.

"Now _you_ know that's not true," she sent him a saucy wink before skipping off, down the hallway.

"Oh, Nat?" He called and she paused to look over her shoulder. "Stop teasing the poor kid."

"But I like it!" She shot back with a smirk, disappearing around the corner.

* * *

Clint was lying to her.

He had been doing that a lot more lately, a lot more that he liked.

But it's not like he could tell her the truth.

Somewhere in the middle of this —fighting HYDRA agents, saving the world, seducing high ranking Russian agents, sparring, _making stupid fucking sundaes_ —he had fallen for his best friend. They had gotten into this whole mess —SHIELD —together, both pulled from pasts that were less than savory and had had to work hard to build reputations up from the rubble. They had done it with each other. First they had tried to work against each others, always viewing the other person as a threat, something that had always been worked into them. But with time, they had learnt to work together and a bond had tentatively been strung between them. That had strengthened over the years that they had worked together, and now here they were, ten years later, almost thirty-four, best friends.

And he was hopelessly, wildly and stupidly in love with her.

He loved the way she fought.

He loved the way she laughed.

He loved the way she emptied a whole bottle of chocolate sauce on top of her sundae.

Clint grimaced as he hit his head twice against his door before turning to walk back into his room. He shed his sweaty tee-shirt and headed into the adjoining bathroom to turn on the shower. He ripped of his pants and briefs and then stepped into the shower, not minding the cool spray as the heat still adjusted, feeling his quickly beating pulse beginning to slow down.

He spent almost every night like this, given he spent almost every day with Nat.

She would get him worked up over the smallest thing. Sometimes the things weren't so small. Like the moment when she had flipped him on his back while they were sparring together just minutes ago. Her thighs were tight on either side of his hips, and he knew that his cock aligned perfectly with where her hot, tight —

" _Fuck_!" Clint gritted out, slamming his fist hard against the tiles lining his shower, trying to clear his mind, and failing miserably.

* * *

Just like she had asked, Clint took Natasha out dancing. He sat down at the bar with a tumbler of bourbon in his hand while she mesmerized him, and probably every other male in the place. The bourbon in his hand was really just for show, he had only sipped from it once, not liking to be anything but alert when he was out. Especially when he was out with Natasha. Even more so when he was out with Natasha and she was like _this_. Drunk off her ass.

"You realize that taking me out dancing means that you _actually_ have to dance?" Natasha said, appearing at his side and tugging on his arm.

"I'm perfectly fine right here," Clint told her, unable to keep the grin from his face as he took in her hazy, eyes and the slight slur in her words.

"No, you're not," Natasha insisted, taking the tumbler from his hand and throwing back the bourbon. She slammed it back down on the sticky counter and grabbed his hand, forcing him to slide off his stool and follow her onto the dance floor. People stumbled out of their way as Natasha found them a tiny clearing in the middle of the throng of people and she started moving her hips. "Dance with me," she encouraged, with a slight pout of her full, luscious lips.

Clint swallowed hard, trying to let his body relax. They had danced together plenty of times. When they were new in SHIELD but not so new they weren't trusted enough to go out alone, they would go clubbing and move next to each other. Some missions required that they go undercover as a couple, sometimes to shady streets where Nat would be dressed like a hooker and Clint was her john, or sometimes it would be some fancy schmancy ball room where they were in three thousand dollar get ups, and doing the fox trot.

But none of those times had been when he was aware of his feelings for her.

Natasha swirled around, and rubbed her ass against his groin, rolling her neck so that her curtain of reddish-brown hair swished from side to side. Clint gritted his teeth as he placed his hands on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he swayed from side to side with her. But Natasha wasn't having any vanilla shift, straightening up and pressing herself to him, so that there wasn't a breath of space between them. She tilted her head back so that her creamy neck was exposed to him. Clint couldn't help but let his head droop slightly, his lips only inches away from her skin and his breath playing across her neck and shoulder. She reached upward, circling her arms around his neck and Clint's hands slid forward, so that they were resting low on her stomach.

He was almost one hundred percent certain that he felt her suck in a sharp breath.

Clint lost track of time, of how long they were twined around each other, feeling every bump and curve of each others bodies. He was so hard in his jeans that he knew that she _had_ to know he was, because she was only wearing a thin black dress. But she didn't say anything and she didn't stop dancing, so Clint wasn't going to stop what was going on here.

The dance between them was suddenly broken when a far too drunk girl and her partner bumped into them, and spilt their drinks all down Natasha's dress.

Natasha's body coiled and she looked ready to snap the girls arm in two when Clint had laughingly put an arm around her waist and dragged her backwards. Natasha let him pull her away, and she laughed with him as they reached the edge of the dance floor.

"I'm pretty sure Fury wouldn't be happy paying for hospital bills for some girl because she messed up your dress," Clint said and Natasha rolled her eyes, a grin on her face as she pushed her hair behind her ear. "You think maybe it's time to head back?" He asked her, and she looked up to see the time glowing on the wall above them, announcing it was just before two.

"Probably good since we leave for Spain tomorrow afternoon," she agreed, although the smile had gone from her face. They left the club, and walked in comfortable silence back to Clint's black SUV which was parked a couple of blocks away, his arm slung over her shoulders. When they climbed in, Bon Jovi was playing, and Natasha complained under her breath, but he had let her choose the music on the way over so she relented to his choice on the way back. She fell quiet on the twenty minute drive home, and Clint thought that maybe she had fallen asleep.

" _I'm a cowboy...On a steel horse I ride..._ " Clint sung along softly with the music and Natasha turned her head to face him as they reached the gates surrounding the Avengers base building. As they got closer to the garage door and it slid open, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I like it when you sing," she said, so softly that he thought that he might have imagined it. Clint glanced over at her as he parked the car and turned off the engine. He looked over at her, long and hard, but didn't say anything before he opened his door and got out. He was going to do the gentlemanly thing and open her door, but ever the independent woman, Natasha opened her door and slid out, almost stumbling when her wobbly legs almost gave out underneath her. Clint was quickly at her side, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close to his side, steadying her.

"You okay there?" He joked, and she rolled her eyes and let out a huff of breath that smelt of vodka and whiskey. "You're Russian. Aren't you guys meant to be able to handle your liquor?" He asked as he got them into the hallway, only a few minutes away from her room.

"Oh, ha ha," Natasha muttered wryly, rolling her eyes at him. "I never drink anymore except when I'm out with you...And given you've turned into a grand dad, it looks like I never go out." Clint sighed at the slight jab, knowing that he had been neglecting her lately, and he really didn't know what he could say to her to help. They reached her door and he pulled the key card for her out of his wallet, a spare that they had exchanged when they had first moved to this facility. He swiped it and opened the door, half carrying, half dragging his best friend in.

"Come on, Nat, time for bed," he murmured as he reached the single bed in the corner of the room, laying her down. He hadn't been in her room for a while, and when he turned to look around for a shirt or something for her to wear, he saw a new a photo on top of her dresser. It was in a simple black frame, nothing special or fancy, but it was a photo that Maria Hill had taken a few months ago. Nat was on his lap and he had one arm loosely around her waist. She was looking at the camera, while he was looking away, talking to someone. It was a natural moment, but it made his heart ache. It was the only photo she had in her room.

"Clinton?" Natasha murmured softly, and he turned around to see her sitting up on her bed, staring at him. When she used his full name like that, it did all sorts of things to his brain that he couldn't even start to explain.

"You okay, Nat?" He asked as he grabbed a soft shirt out of her drawer and brought it to her. It wasn't until he was handing it to her that it was actually his, one of his old ones that he hadn't seen in a while. "You stealing my shit now?" He asked with a fond smile as she took it from him. Natasha held it in her lap, chewing down on her lower lip nervously before looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Clint's smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed as he reached out to touch her chin lightly. "You okay?" He repeated.

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" She suddenly asked, turning fully to face him. Clint was so taken aback, he didn't know how to respond, and then she was leaning in and pressing her mouth to his and the only thing that he was thinking about was responding. It was slow at first, close mouthed with no tongue as they learned each others rhythm. And then it increased pace, Clint's hand coming up to cup her jaw as Natasha's tongue flicked at the seam of his lips, encouraging him to open up for her. His tongue searched her mouth, finding her tongue and playing with it lightly as he tasted her and fell in love all over again as she played back with him.

It was like when they were dancing.

Time and space rules just didn't apply right now.

Clint lost himself in her scent and taste and he could feel Nat loosing herself as well. It wasn't until she made a loud moan at the back of her throat that he realized what they were doing.

What they were doing while she was drunk.

"Nat, Nat...Nat," he mumbled pulling back from her and letting his hand drop from where it was holding her face. She frowned, confusion painted all over her pretty face.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes darting back down to his mouth.

"You're drunk...I don't want you doing something that you're going to regret," he murmured, painfully pulling himself away from her and getting off the bed. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah?" She was staring at him with big green eyes, her lips swollen from his kisses, practically begging him with her gaze to come back to her. As much as it pained him, he turned around and left the room, leaving Natasha behind.

* * *

Clint didn't see Nat all morning, which was weird, usually they were pulled together like a magnet after a few hours apart. But he figured that maybe she was hung over and dealing with it, and preparing for the mission. He reported in at 1300 to Maria and Phil Coulson, along with Steve Rodgers, who would be accompanying himself and Nat on the mission. Wanda was also coming along, but only as an eyes and ears, she wasn't going to be doing anything unless needed. Natasha still wasn't there, which was strange, until she stalked into the hanger with a blank expression on her face and her travel bag in her hand. Clint went to greet her, but Maria cut him down with a look, continuing with the parameters of their mission. He moved slightly so he was standing on her left side, and decided that he was going to move forward as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened last night.

"Fingers crossed this doesn't take too long," Clint murmured to Natasha out of the side of his mouth. "I'm looking forward to those sundaes." She didn't reply, didn't even have a flicker of facial expression to acknowledge that she had heard him. Clint frowned and was about to say something else but then they were boarding the plane, and Natasha was in front of him, walking so quickly he could practically hear the snap in her step. Clint was about to follow her when Maria approached him, holding out her hands to stop him from walking.

"Oi," she hissed at him and Clint rolled his eyes as he looked over at her. "You better make it up to her while you're away. Save her life, or _something_."

"What do I have to make up for?" He protested, although he already had an idea of what she was talking about.

"Last night," Maria narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. "You know her better than everyone else, and her making a move on you was a _big deal_ and you blew her off." Clint scrunched up his nose and sighed.

"I did not blow her off —and since when are you two so tight and sharing everything?"

"She needs someone to talk to about what's going on between you two, since you seem to run off every time something gets close to happening," Maria muttered at him. Clint was about to open his mouth and protest, but then Steve clapped his hands to draw his attention, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Clint sighed and trudged up to steps to the plane, taking a seat opposite Wanda and wondering where Natasha was.

* * *

The mission didn't take too long, only a couple of days, and it resulted in the typical fight that stretched out through an archaic castle. Steve was in his full Captain America get up, Natasha was in her leather cat suit and he was in his standard black pants and black vest, his quiver strapped to his back. Wanda wasn't happy about being left behind in their hotel room, but she reluctantly agreed with them. They approached the castle from the back right, Cap leading, Nat in the middle and Clint bringing up the rear. He had to admit, he didn't mind being behind Natasha. The way the leather clung to her ass made his whole body light on fire, and it took everything he had to focus on their mission. As they reached the towering walls, Natasha glanced back at him, and her eyes dropped down to take in his bare muscled arms before quickly swinging her eyes back to Steve.

But Clint had seen the appreciative look.

And it gave him at least an inch of hope.

Even though it had been three days since she had spoken to him.

After the three of them had found the computer chip and rescued the professor who had been abducted, Maria had flown in and picked them up. She had already picked up Wanda, who quickly brought them the first aid kit from the pack of the jet. The Maximoff girl kneeled in front of the professor and Cap moved into the front of the jet to speak with Maria. That left Natasha and Clint alone, and he glanced over at her.

"Let's get your arm cleaned up," he murmured, wincing as he saw the shard of glass that was embedded into her forearm. Natasha glared at him and jerked her arm away from his touch. Clint pursed his lips together, reaching out and wrapping his hand around her wrist, pulling her back into him. "Stop being a stubborn bitch, Nat."

"Leave me _alone_ , Clint," she snapped.

"For fucks sakes," he growled, taking a hold of her already ripped sleeve and pulling at it so that the material fell apart in his calloused hands. She looked like she was going to say something else but she stayed quiet as he worked at her arm. He took out tweezers from the first aid kit and slowly began to pull out the glass that was embedded in her skin. She fixed her gaze on the ground, her expression never changing, even when he dabbed alcohol over the open wound.

They had done this a hundred times before too each other. Given their line of work, they often ended up in situations where they were injured.

But it was different this time.

Clint wiped her wound down and then expected the slash, wondering briefly if she was going to need stitches, but then dismissed the thought. That was going to be for the doctors back at the base. He placed a gauze over the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. He pressed his fingers against the soft skin of her forearm for a moment before looking up at her.

Natasha wasn't looking at the ground anymore, her emerald eyes on him.

"Nat..." Clint swallowed hard. "The reason I left the other night wasn't because I didn't want it to happen. It was because you were drunk, and I didn't want you to think that I was taking advantage of you."

"Right," she snorted. "As if _you_ could ever take advantage of _me_."

"Hey," he narrowed his eyes. "Come on. Be serious here." Natasha pressed her lips together, but she didn't look as pissed as she did a few minutes ago. "You're my best friend, and I didn't want to fuck anything up."

"Well, you fucked it up," she muttered. "When someone kisses you, you'e not meant to take off in the opposite —" the rest of her sentence was silenced as Clint's mouth covered hers. Natasha glared and tried to pull away. "You can't just —" he interrupted her again, his hands cupping her face and drawing her in, slanting his lips over hers. She attempted to pull away one last time to continue her argument, but Clint wasn't allowing it. He got up from the stool he was sitting on, leaning over Natasha and pushing her into the back of the chair she was in. His hands skimmed down her sides, tracing over her hips and thighs lightly before returning to her neck. She was returning the pressure, her hands coming up to clutch at his biceps, nails digging into the tanned skin.

"Huh-hum," came a rough clearing of throat behind him. Clint suddenly remembered where they were, in a jet —not alone at all —and he winced, pulling back slowly from Natasha. She was looking up at him, a slight smile on her face, which turned into a smirk when she looked over his shoulder.

"It's Cap, isn't it?" Clint asked with a cringe and she gave a single nod. He straightened up and turned around, facing Steve and Wanda. Wanda was grinning, playing with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face, while Steve just looked downright uncomfortable, his cheeks pinked. "Don't worry, Cap. We'll continue this later."

"In a much more private setting, I hope," Steve added, quickly turning around and walking back through the door. Wanda smirked at them one last time before following after him, and Clint turned back to Natasha.

"How do you feel, Hawkeye? You just offended the most pure man in history," she asked, smiling up him, staring up through her eyelashes.

"Well..." Clint leaned back down, bracing his arms on either side of her as he paused just inches away from her face. "He would be so much more offended if he could see inside my head right now." The deadly smirk on Natasha's face deepened as she moved forward ever so slightly.

"How about you show me?" She whispered.

"Cool down, Nat," he smirked, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before sitting next to her. "In a much more private setting, remember?"

"After sundaes," she suddenly murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. Clint let out a laugh, which shook his stomach and ached at the bruise he knew was going to form from where he was hit a few hours before in the fight.

"Okay," he agreed. "After sundaes."


End file.
